


Rusty's Tree

by bluetint



Category: GOT7
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M, POV Outsider, Snakes, Tags Are Hard, The Author Regrets Nothing and Everything, crackish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-20 03:43:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20668757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetint/pseuds/bluetint
Summary: The lovers only come out at night.





	Rusty's Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to inna and gine, for cheering me up because I'm in sore need of it these days.
> 
> A shoutout to dionysus, who's part of the reason this happened.

The lovers only come out at night.

Rusty loves the nighttime. Night is when all of mother nature's children and other creatures settle down after a day of work. Night is when the noise dies down. Night is when Rusty is free to slither through the blades of grass without encountering easily spooked humans or getting trampled on by the horses.

Yes, Rusty definitely loves the nighttime.

The tree he's curled around is his favorite. The foliage is dense, but there's a little patch of leaves through which he can clearly see the moon and the stars around it. It had the right amount of thick and twisted branches around which he would wrap himself and soak up the sun. 

Unfortunately, this tree happened to be a popular convening point for humans. The nicer ones would just take a nap or read a book under it in solitude, and impolite ones would take up...._ unsavory _ activities.

Rusty shuddered at the remembrance of said activities and returned his attention to the two boys sitting under it.

Now Rusty has been around for a long enough time to be referred as an old fella and according to Skipper the hare, his memory might be going. Pishaw! What would that bobtailed nuisance know! He was a mighty fine specimen for his age he'll have you know! 

He had an elephant's memory. The boys sitting under his tree had been coming around here for a few months and always at night, never one without the other. The red-haired fella was a bit on the skinny side. His teeth were sharp too, like Warwick the cantankerous fox who lived down by the pond. His family owned the dreadful horses that stomped on him every time he went out for a walk! If memory serves, his name was Mark. 

The other boy, his name Rusty didn't remember. All he knew was this boy was loud, had a laugh that brought to mind excited hyena cubs and a head full of chestnut brown hair. He was easily spooked too, as evidenced by when Rusty had dropped a dry twig on his head for entertainment when he was bored. He'd jumped a mile in his skin, sending the other one into peals of laughter. 

A contrast to the Mark fella, who was mostly quiet. These two boys, despite their, what one would consider, glaring differences at first glance but actually complimented each other well. 

It is also at that moment he recalls the matching pieces of jewelry they both seemed to wear, one Rusty wouldn't have taken note of had it not been for the magpie whinging to him about it every time they met. 

An opposites attract scenario, eh? Rusty pondered over this as the boys sat under his tree, holding hands and murmuring softly to each other, identical silver bracelets twinkling in the moonlight. 

If they were another species, they would have been like a pair of newly mated albatrosses. 

They were one of the nicer ones too, who didn't engage in any hanky panky under his nose! Humans these days, he thought grumpily. They didn't even clean up afterwards, and the scent didn't disappear for _days_ after! An abhorrent species, truly.

However, deny as he might Rusty was an old fella and his bowels were reminding him so. Unless he wanted to surprise his guests with a generous helping of pungent feces he was going to have to move to do his business elsewhere.

Regretfully so, Rusty uncoiled himself from around the branches and slowly inched his way down below, catching a passing gist of the conversation.

"I'm telling you Mark, I'm only going to be gone a few weeks, a month at most, but we'll call and text every day!"

"Everyday?"

"Okay not everyday, I mean I'll give you space to recharge and stuff, but I won't forget you is what I'm saying."

"Uh-huh."

"Hey babe, come on you know I -" Rusty doesn't get to hear what the boy was about to say for that's when he screams and scrambles from his spot. His eyes are wide with fear and there's a finger being pointed at the spot where Rusty is. "A snake!!!!"

The other boy, Mark, doesn't even give a twitch. He just looks over and smiles. "Oh that's just Rusty."

The boy swivels his head around so fast Rusty hears it go crick. _"Rusty?" _

"Yeah because of his scales," which were indeed the color of rust. A rather fascinating color, if Rusty said so himself. 

"Mark," the boy bites out, torn between terror at the sight of the python and incredulity at the thought that his paramour was acquainted with said python. "What." 

Mark sighs wearily as if the man is being deliberately obtuse. "_Yes,_ Jackson." Ah, so that was this man's name. "This is a python called Rusty. Who lives up in this tree. Which is funny cuz we're literally sitting under Rusty's Tree." 

Jackson takes a lengthy pause to process this. That is ample time for Rusty to continue slithering down said tree, into the cool, moist grass. Breathe in the damp, earthy air as he slithered to a respectful distance away where nature's call wouldn't be interrupted. 

The calm of taking a long dump is broken by a screech. 

_"Are you telling me we've been rendezvousing under this tree while a snake -" _

"A python," Mark interrupts primly. 

_"That's not the point - mmfgh!"_

Kissing, as Rusty had observed, seemed to be a popular way among their kind of getting someone to stop talking. 

Seemed like Jackson didn't mind being told to shut up, mused Rusty as he wrapped things up on his end. He seemed to have forgotten about the python as the scent of fear had vanished from the air. 

Humans, he mused. So strange. 

\---

**Author's Note:**

> I actually Googled 'do snakes poop' for this


End file.
